


Swinging A Baseball Bat Can Feel Just Like An Orgasm, If You're In The Right State Of Mind

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Head Licking, Standing Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, wanton destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Snapshots of Amanda and the Rowdy 3.





	Swinging A Baseball Bat Can Feel Just Like An Orgasm, If You're In The Right State Of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> ... this is turning into a trend. 
> 
> Have some more porn!

_Listen._

Sometimes fire burned from Amanda Brotzman’s fingers when nobody had struck a match, and sometimes a baseball bat in her hand felt like a tongue on her clit, and the reverberations running up her arm from the impact were like the explosion of an orgasm, and she laughed with delight as the television screen exploded into a shower of glass, and she made eye contact with Martin and grinned, the glass fell around their feet like snow.

It was a good thing the Rowdy 3 went in for such tough boots, or there would be some very cut up feet.

Vogel was… possibly dancing, and Cross and Gripps were breaking apart old computer monitors, and then, between one heartbeat and the next, she was grabbing hold of Martin’s shoulders, standing on tiptoe and kissing him, as the symphony of breaking glass and the Rowdy 3 gamboled around them.

There was some whooping and cackling, when the rest of the Rowdy 3 caught sight of the two of them, but… fuck it.

He was… he was lifting her up by the hips, and he was kissing her back, holding her up, and she broke their kiss, wrapping her lip around his earring and sucking on it, as he moaned in her ear, his breath all cigarettes and broken glass.

He pinned her to the side of the van, and she rolled her hips, grinding against him, because she was wet and desperate for something inside of her.

Although….

“Condoms,” Amanda said. “We need… we need condoms.” 

“You worried about babies, drummer girl?” 

Martin was pulling her pants down, and she went with him, helping him remove them, as her panties dangled off of one ankle, the denim of her jeans just barely making it over her boots. 

And there was Martin, holding her up with his strong arms, and she wondered, in a delirious type of way, what it would be like to be fucked by him. 

Would his cock be like his baseball bat?

… being fucked with the handle of that baseball bat would be pretty interesting, she wouldn’t lie, although she’d never thought of it that before.

But fuck it. 

“We don’t make babies that way,” said Martin. 

“No?”

“No,” said Martin, and one of the hands that was holding her up to the wall was going to his belt, and then there was the tinkle of his belt, and the head of his cock was right up against her thigh. 

“Oh,” said Amanda, her voice thick. 

“Am I misreading this situation?”

Martin made eye contact, one eyebrow up. 

“No,” said Amanda, “no, you’re… you’re very much not.”

She rolled her hips again, and she tried to wriggle, to get him to slide her down onto his cock. 

“So you want this?”

“I swear to fucking _god_ , Martin, if you are not fucking me - _oh_!” 

He slid into her, one long stroke, and she bit back a moan, then… fuck it.

She threw her head back and howled, and Martin snarled, bouncing her, and she dug her fingers into his hair, sinking her fingers into it, twisting it. 

“Take it, drummer, take it,” said Martin, and he rolled his hips, banging her back into the side of the van.

“You’re wrong,” she said, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him, rolling her own hips, clenching around him. 

His finger found her clit, and he rubbed it, rough and just the right way to make her tremble around him.

“Mmm?”

“You’re the one taking it,” said Amanda, and she dug her heels into his lower back, still bouncing, and she bit him, her eyes sliding half shut, his hand squeezing her ass, hard enough that she was going to be bruised, and she relished the bruises, she relished the scent of him, the feeling of him inside of her, the warmth of his body against her own.

Sometimes an orgasm will make the world go white around the edges, and sometimes a baseball bat through a television is just as wonderful as a cock stroking deep and fast, until Amanda was cumming around Martin’s cock, and Martin shoved himself as deep inside of her as he could, and he kissed her like the sound of breaking glass and filled her with a heat that left her shuddering, more arousal drooling out of her, and then he was pulling out of her, setting her gently on the ground, her pants around her ankle, her knees still rubbery.

“Oh yeah, Drummer!” 

Vogel punched the air and Amanda grinned and flipped him off. 

Cross and Gripps both howled with laughter. 

* * * 

She had an attack.

They were on the outskirts of some small town, their van full of groceries (Amanda insisted on some fruit, something that was food and not just junk), and her whole body was full of burning, her legs being broken, tangled in some kind of mangle.

And there was Vogel, his eyes wide and concerned, and he was doing that… thing, that thing they all did, and then her legs were unbroken, and he was helping her to her feet, smiling at her nervously. 

“Did I do okay? How you feeling, boss?”

And her whole body was on fire, but in a different way, and he was grinning at her, all teeth, as he pressed his body closer to hers, his fingers hooked in her belt loops, and he… leaned in and licked he shaved part of her head.

… oh, Vogel. 

She grabbed him, and she kissed him, for the joy of it, and to keep him from licking her head again. 

Not that it didn’t feel… interesting, but her body was on fire, and she could only do so many strange things in a moment.

And she was grabbing Vogel by the shoulders, shoving him vaguely downwards, and he fell to his knees on the blacktop, fumbling hr belt open, all awkward enthusiasm, and then he was shoving her underwear (which was technically _his_ underwear, because her underwear had been shredded in the last attempt of the Rowdy 3 doing laundry) down around her thighs, and he was just… diving in.

He pressed his whole face into her cunt, and he licked her with more enthusiasm than skill, but he found her clit without having to be pointed in the right direction, and he sucked on it and worried it with his tongue, until she was cumming down his face, the heat in her belly breaking like glass, again and again. 

When she closed her eyes, she saw the bat, smashing into the old television set, the lightning, and she gasped, her knees going weak, and then he was moaning as well, and she blinked down at him, and he was standing up, his pants unzipped, his cock hanging out, still pulsing and dripping a string of cum.

… the rest of it was on her shoe, she realized, which… hmm.

“Boss,” said Vogel, and he sounded slightly awed, his lips shiny with her slick, “you taste like metal.”

She grinned, and she kissed him on the mouth, a gentle peck, both of their pants still open, and he grinned back at her, in delight. 

“I guess I do,” she said, and then she leaned in and licked _his_ head, to see how he liked it!

He cackled, and she cackled back, and then Martin and Cross and Gripps were ambling over, and when they saw the state of undress Vogel and Amanda were in, they all howled and laughed. 

Amanda flipped them off, and the laughter came harder.

* * * 

Gripps was painting her nails. 

He was painting her fingernails a bright, vibrant green, as they barreled down the road going to who knew where, and somewhere along the line he was squeezing and rubbing her hand in his own, which moved to her arm, which moved to her shoulder, and then he as cupping her cheek, and she kissed his palm, and then….

She was kissing him, between one breath and the next, and it was sweet, warm, comfortable, and it was like holding a baseball bat, strength coiled under her fingers, against her body, but then he was pulling her closer, and she was in his lap, her wet nails in the air to keep them from smudging.

Gripps kissed her, and then she raised an eyebrow at him, when his hand hovered over her breast. 

She grinned, and he pulled her shirt up, pushing her breast together, nuzzling into them.

She was wearing a sports bra, and he pushed it up as well, to get access to her skin. 

His hands were calloused from his sledgehammer, and then he was kissing her nipples, that same gentleness, and she rolled her eyes, spreading her legs and pulling him closer, her heels digging into his calves.

He grinned at her, and he pressed her breasts together, licking her nipples again, and then he was pushing her pants down as well, and his fingers were curling inside of her, his thumb against her clit, and she got up on her elbows to watch it; Cross was watching, and Martin was watching, she could feel their eyes, and she watched Gripp’s fingers slide in and out of her, her pussy clenching around him, the chipped green nail polish on his thumb disappearing between her labia as he rubbed her clit.

She shuddered, and she spread her legs wider, as he pushed her pants all the way off, and then he was between her legs, and he gave her a look, one hand on his belt buckle.

“You want some fun, drummer?”

“Bring it on,” said Amanda, and she was smirking. 

He pulled her pants down, off, and she kicked her boxers and her jeans down her leg, and she was wrapping them around the comfortable bulk of Gripps, as he pushed his own pants down, and there he was, thick and warm, drooling down the tip. 

He slid into her as slick as silk, his forehead against his, and when she held on to the shoulders of his vest, the nail polish smeared, but it didn’t matter, because Cross and Vogel and Martin were whooping, the car revving with each one of his thrusts, and she was moaning and laughing, and they were laughing, and his thumb was on her clit as his hips worked, and they were racing along some back road, hitting pot holes, and the van was as much a part of this as Gripp’s breath on her face, or Martin’s raucous laughter. 

He was rolling his hips in time with the revving of the car, and she was laughing, clutching him, little flashes of electric green on his shoulders, and her pussy clenched around him as she got closer and closer to the edge of orgasm, and then the engine revved again, as hard as the pressure breaking in her belly, and she came and came and came, flashes of lightning going off beside her, and then Vogel and Martin and Gripps and Cross were all glowing, and Gripps was cumming inside of her as well, even as they glowed. 

And Gripps kissed her, his beard ticklish against her cheeks, and he grinned at her.

“I’m all green now,” he said, and he was snickering.

“Sorry about that,” she said.

“Green is a good color,” Gripps said. 

Martin revved up the van, as if in agreement. 

* * *

They were dancing around a fire.

It was a proper dance around the fire, with thudding music and shredding guitars.

They were in the middle of nowhere, and nobody was around for miles.

And Amanda was dancing with Cross. 

Well… it had started out as dancing. 

At some point, his hands had been on her hips, but her ass was soft and he was hard against it, even through her pants, his pants, and he had his arms around her, on his middle and she was looking at the fire, at the flicker and the play of it, as Martin smoked a cigarette and Vogel… flailed along to the music, but Crown’s face was in her neck, and her fingers were in his hair, and the beat thudded through her, like the swing of the baseball bat. 

And she moaned, deep and low, and he growled, right into her neck, and he ground his hips, and somehow she had ended up bent over one of the van’s seats, which had been pulled over, her face in the upholstery, and he was draped over her back, kissing and biting along her shoulders, along the back of her neck.

“Drummer, I want in,” he said, right in her ear, and he was nuzzling into her neck, and then he was biting her, and she arched her back, spreading her legs wider, and he was pushing her jeans down, squeezing her ass with one big hand. 

“Come in,” she said. “Come in, welcome in, welcome _home_....”

“Home is where the heart is,” Cross said, his hand between her legs, rubbing her sweet and slow, finding her clit through the slot in the boxers, his erection still sliding between the cheeks of her ass.

“You’re the heart, drummer,” called Martin, from his spot by the fire.

“I thought she was the boss,” Vogel said, and he was watching them, wide eyed.

Amanda grinned, and she moaned, hunching her hips forward, grinding into Cross’s hand, with its long fingers, pressing on her clit, and she shuddered against him, squeezing him tightly. 

“Home is where the heartbeat is,” said Cross, and he curled his fingers in her, and she shuddered, pulsing around him. 

And then Cross’s fingers were withdrawing, and his cock was sliding into her, long and lean like him, sweet and hot, as she humped back against him, as his fingers were on her clit again, and she squeezed him tight, as he bellowed, beginning to thrust into her like a beast.

She threw her own head back and howled, up into the sky with its pinpricks of stars, the flames dancing across her face, and the heat from the fire matched the heat from inside of her, and then she was cumming around Chase, cumming like a spark popping, and she shuddered around him, sobbing, as he groaned, pressing his face into her neck and giving it mixes of kisses and bites, until she was flat on her belly on the seat, his cock shooting heat and wetness inside of her.

“I can feel the home,” he said in her ear, “the heart.” 

“You’re my home,” she told Cross. “All of you,” she called. “All of you!”

And Martin grinned, and thrust his baseball bat up to the sky, and he howled up to the heavens.

It was as sweet a sound as breaking glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic? 
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different? 
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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